Putting Away Things of the Past
by Pale Treasures
Summary: A slave girl's dreams of freedom and a solitary existence are questioned by discovery of affection she had not thought possible to feel. Agron/OC. Takes place during Vengeance. One shot.


**Putting Away Things of the Past**

**Disclaimer: **Steven S. DeKnight owns the show and everything. I am only borrowing the characters. Deva, however, belongs to me.

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **A slave girl's dreams of freedom and a solitary existence are questioned by discovery of affection she had not thought possible to feel. Agron/OC. Takes place during _Vengeance._ One shot.

**Author's Note: **I should make a brief introduction to explain how this story came about, before I let you read it. It will be boring, but please bear with me; it will help you understand.

I started writing a Spartacus/OC multi-chaptered story in 2011, shortly after I started watching the show. To this day, it still isn't complete, and I decided to drop it for a number of reasons, some of them being indecision about the course of the story, being devastated with the end of the show and some difficulty writing Spartacus in love with a woman who isn't Sura - as the story and the show both progressed, I realized it's almost out of character for him (even though I'm not even a Sura fan). While I was writing that story, and after some deliberation, I had Agron fall in love with my OC, as a means of stirring Spartacus into action and into admitting his own feelings. My OC was not meant to reciprocate Agron's feelings, and after a while I began to feel that storyline too was somewhat far-fetched. In short, I scraped my story and all other plans of other Spartacus stories, because I feared they weren't being true to the characters and because I wasn't sure which way to go with them, since almost everybody dies in the show. But, I had the idea one day to write a little AU spin-off of my own story about what would happen if my OC came to return Agron's love. I wrote it originally for myself, because I thought people might be confused and indifferent about it, and since I had given up on Spartacus fanfiction, there would be no point in posting it. But, after re-reading it again, I didn't think it was as bad as I first thought, and, with the proper clarification of the background, I think you might read it relatively confusion-free. I believe it can now hold its own as an independent story, and that it won't be too embarrassing (I hope) for me to share it with the world.

SO. If you're still sticking around after that, I thank you and commend you for it. Hopefully you will enjoy this for what it is, and Agron won't be too OOC. Apologies for any mistakes. Once again, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

She had been thinking hard about her new situation in life. Spartacus' slaying of their master, Batiatus, and subsequent release of all the slaves in his house had reached mammoth proportions. There seemed to be no end in sight; he craved much more, things Deva feared might be out of his reach. Yet, his power was unquestionable. He would try with all his might until life was drained from his body. She only worried about the fate of the great number of freed slaves he'd amassed meanwhile, if their leader fell.

Spartacus was too ambitious. The gods themselves could never have brought such purpose to completion. He was a curious mixture of utter idealism and ruthless selfishness. He distracted – and fooled – himself with claims of freedom for all the slaves in the land, with just retribution to the Romans and a life of equality for all. She did not believe such a thing was possible. The world was a baffling and cruel place, with particular rules that had been forged from its very first breath. They were not meant for anyone to understand, they simply were. Spartacus, for all his skill and power, for whatever amounts of generosity his shattered heart contained, would not be the one to change that. But she would not be the one to tell him that. She did not think he would listen.

She had an ominous presentiment about the conclusion of this enterprise. She would be pulled down as it crumbled and irremediably consumed by it along with everyone else. There would be no hope of future for her, if the others were denied such a fate. Because of such growing certainty, she had begun to ponder her future outside of the reach of the rebels, beyond Spartacus' camp. If she escaped, if she sought to begin new life elsewhere, she was certain he would not attempt to stop her, but instead would bid her farewell with the least of gentleness and respect. If he did not, she would not be deterred by his prohibition. Now, especially now, that she was a free woman, she feared no one.

However, no longer was her future solely on her mind. Another presence, a recent one, even though their acquaintance was not new, had begun to intertwine itself around her thoughts, freshly suffusing her beliefs and decisions. She had had no time to dislike the change, for it had been so slow and gradual, it was only dawning on her presently. Every day, it grew more fixed. She felt that it was no longer within her power to resist it.

She had not given in easily. A great deal of reflection and doubt had preceded this moment. And before that, revulsion, something she now felt guilty of. He did not deserve it, she conceded, somewhat reluctantly still. His nature might be flawed and in want of improving, but he was not deserving of scorn or disgust. In his own way, she saw it now, he was an honourable man.

Her relations with Agron had improved steadily, in a manner she had not contemplated or expected before. He, too, had changed, from the lovesick, boorish youth he had been, staring at her with lustrous eyes and making her uncomfortable with such overt, fervent passion, to a determined and oft hot-headed soldier, to the man he was now – not entirely devoid of impatience or foolishness yet, but trustworthy and with his heart in the right place. Sometimes, he was almost sensible. It was only presently that she discovered that the latter change pleased her, although it should not have surprised her.

His behaviour towards her had also changed. In spite of the displeasure his attentions had afforded her, back under Batiatus' roof, the alteration had gratified her vanity. She had grown accustomed to the unquestionable nature of his stares and overtures, and flattery had, with time, been felt. It could not have been any other way – she was a woman made of flesh and blood, after all, for all her apparent icy demeanour. What was more, she had never expected she would find love once again. She had never thought she would become precious, indispensable, to someone in Rome. But Agron was not Roman. He despised them just as heartily as she did. With time, she had come to discover they had more in common than she'd believed. Quietly, as his unconcealed hunger for her began to subside, as he learned to hold a proper conversation with her and could almost – for she knew better – feign indifference or calm in her presence, they began to find something new in each other. Their closeness was comforting and strangely fruitful. She would not have known anything about him otherwise, and the same could be said about him. She had been surprised to discover how conversing with Agron warmed and consoled her, and mourned that their exchanges were always cut short by something or other. Perhaps that had been what had started it all.

Lately, she had taken to thinking she might not be alive for much longer. She – all of them – cheated the odds every day. She should not continue to rashly test her good fortune; she ought to leave while she could. She liked the thought of leaving by herself. The edge of the world was her limit. She would not go back to Britain, no – too many haunting memories, grim ones. She would never be able to scrub her homeland free of the stench of death. But there were other places. After surviving Rome, she could fit in anywhere. No one could tell her what to do or who to be – not again. This was what true freedom tasted like, this was what inflamed heart and made chest swell – not slaying an entire nation. Not that she minded that the Romans died, in truth. She welcomed the notion. She simply did not want such task to fall on her hands. She had never been quite capable of stomaching violence.

But something prevented her thoughts to progress into fixed plans. Something was lacking, something she felt, with every new dawn, that she must to do to feel at ease. Disquieting doubt had lodged itself in mind and checked the happiness and hope she would otherwise feel at making such plans to advance life. She needed to know something first – needed to finally yield to what been stirring in her breast, unfelt, until now.

She had barely crossed paths with Agron for the last few days, and she knew not where he was at present. The absence weighed strangely heavy with her. She knew the rebels often scouted the adjacent roads and fields, in search of Romans, shelter or food. Sometimes, they were gone for long hours. Back at their hiding place, their numbers were large and familiar face could sometimes disappear from sight when one least expected it. She had never thought to miss Agron before. She feared even imagining doing so, lest he should somehow feel it and become more ardent and pressing towards her. But now, she knew when he was absent and the length of time that passed without seeing his return became imprinted on her. For the first time, she felt dejection at the prospect of not seeing him. Impatience did not move her feelings, but something deeper, silent and more complete in its power. She had begun to feel slightly lost without Agron nearby. His presence was comforting; she knew, even though no word had passed either of their lips on the matter, that she was protected and safe as long as he was near. He had become a cherished companion, a close friend, if one could call friendship to the handful of brief conversations they'd had, either by the fire, in the quietest of nights, or in broad daylight, before something interrupted them. To be robbed of such security was a strange blow she was having more difficulty to handle with each passing day.

In the peak of her insecurity, she began to question his love. It was possible his infatuation had withered, consequence of his maturing. Perhaps he now merely saw her as friend, even if dear to him. A tragic and ironic occurrence, now that her feelings for him had finally changed, and blossomed with each moon. Now that she thought of putting an end to the distance, of finding him and ascertaining his feelings and hers, of claiming him for herself—was it all for nought? Had it all been an illusion?

Surely not. Her heart pounded firmly, speaking the opposite. He did love her. He loved her more than he would ever love another woman—perhaps than he had loved or would ever love anyone else. But something had caused him to change, something that was perhaps linked to his sudden, long removal from sight. She had to find him and clarify the situation. Uncertainty had never sat well with her. She had bourn it as a slave, because every day, every moment that went unquestioned meant that she would live, but now, as a free woman, she would endure no such thing. It made her ill. She would rather know, even if truth proved more wounding than conjecture.

Night had fallen upon the scattered group of former gladiators, pale stars twinkling overhead. Masculine voices rang dissonantly in the warm spring air, calling out to each other, engaged in minor altercations. Familiar sounds. As she left her place of solitude and approached the camp, the drone growing louder and clearer as she drew nearer, her eyes darted about, instinctively seeking Agron. She did not see him. A pang struck her heart as she thought that this might be another night when they would not see each other. Then, irritation and despair inflamed her. Could it really be so difficult to find one man amongst a party which, although large, was by no means innumerable? She would see it done tonight – she would wait and wonder no longer.

She had been known to the gladiators when they were under Batiatus' roof and, by now, her presence was generally ignored, as accepted and unquestioned as that of a man. She walked past them as they went back and forwards, occupied with various tasks, with no necessity for greetings and no lewd comments made. She preferred it that way. Perhaps if she were more open and beautiful, she would need to worry, but, as it was, she was safe.

Still, she saw him not. Defeated, agitated, she gave up on the matter, dragging herself dejectedly to the fire a few men had already built to roast the game they had haunted early on. She partook of the food, keeping silent when all around her talked merrily and laughed, trying her best not to show how dismal she felt within. Agron was not among the party. When the meal had ended, everyone scattered in various directions, the sounds of their gaiety reverberating faintly in the air.

The night sky was now a deep, velvety dark blue, and the stars that punctured it glowed brighter. Crickets chirruped in the distance. The camp had cleared, and the general quiet invited both reflection and renewal of her purpose. Unable to settle for defeat, Deva chose to continue looking for Agron. She wandered round, in search of someone who could help her, if she could not find Agron herself, and, at a short distance from her, sitting against one faded stone pillar, she saw Nasir, deeply absorbed in the task of sharpening his sword. Her heart lurched in her chest and, with it, she felt fresh discharge of hope. She knew the boy to be a friend of Agron's, an initially defenceless, reluctant slave he had taken a liking and offered his protection to. If anyone knew where Agron was at present, it would be him. Slowly, trying to restrain her avidity, she approached him. Nasir looked up at once and smiled at her.

"Your sight gladdens the eye," he told her. "You have been absent for long."

"I come with intent to speak similar words," Deva replied, trying not to redden. She knew not how to say what she had in mind, fearing too explicit unveiling of her feelings. "But my query is about another. Have you seen Agron around these parts?"

"Does his absence raise concern?" Nasir countered amiably, with a knowing smile.

As she knew she would, she blushed hotly. "I merely seek to have word with him."

Nasir's smile was tender and gentle, the kind of smile that silently reassures one's secret shall not be revealed.

"I have seen him a moment ago. Like you, he has sought solitude."

Deva bit her lip, trying to keep heart from throbbing wildly in her chest. "Can you disclose his location?"

"I do not think he was in a mood to be disturbed. But if you are the visitor, I think he shall forgive the trespassing." Nasir laughed quietly, enjoying his gentle teasing, and Deva's cheeks burnt hotter. "He headed south, but he did not leave camp. Quietude of night should allow you to find him with no great difficulty."

"Gratitude for the information," she breathed, before quickly walking away, embarrassed by how easy it had been for Nasir to read her.

Her feet, nevertheless, were light in gaining the distance that separated her from Agron, quick in pursuit of him. The enormity of what she was about to do dawned on her. She had barely come to realise what her feelings for him were, and she was already willing to act on them. Would not such haste prove fatal? Had she truly thought everything through? But the signs were clear. Her growing attachment to him, her sadness – jealousy, even – for his newfound stillness and frequent absences, the desire to claim his as her own and to be his – the ceasing of her bewilderment and downright terror of his attentions towards her, but gradual welcoming of them – spoke plainly. Agron was no longer indifferent to her, and certainly not a disagreeable presence.

Further, her plans of lone departure lost some of their taste when she thought she would have to leave Agron behind among the rest. She wanted to be with him – to talk to him by a crackling fire with no interruption. She began to wonder how his touch might feel like, how his tenderness would pour into her through more intimate contact. For the first time since she had known him, she saw his beauty and understood the yearning, appreciative comments of the women in camp. She felt resentful of their attentions and fearful he might, one day, decide to reciprocate them. If this was love, then, her battered, slow heart had been won. She was in love. And, deep down, she knew she was. This was not the childish, intense passion she had nurtured for Aeddan, but a quieter, more contemplative kind of affection. But Agron, now more than ever, could stir her long-forgotten fire. And a part of her craved to discover how that would be like.

If only she found him. If only he set her mind at ease.

She stumbled to a halt when she saw a bulk of average stature with its back turned to her, staring out into the Roman horizon swallowed by the night. She could mistake him for no other man. Rich brown hair caressed the nape of his neck, and, in spite of his reflective posture, the well-defined muscles in his smooth, golden back looked tense. She swallowed, taken aback by his sudden discovery and by the perception that he was, indeed, a man to be coveted.

"The night proves good counsellor for troubled mind," she spoke up softly, before she could help herself. She was surprised by her choice of words.

Agron whirled around at once, and shock settled on his features upon discovering it was her. For a moment, he could not speak.

"If I intrude upon deep thought, I shall leave presently," Deva said, dispirited by the growing silence. It was impossible not to consider he might not want to see her, even if, at first, it had seemed to her that desire and shock at their sudden proximity had been responsible for striking him mute.

At once, he shook his head vigorously. "No intrusion was made. I merely sought a moment of peace." Even his voice was different when he spoke to her, quieter, more composed, but, she could not help but feel it, more distant as well. Her heart tightened in her chest. She could not lose him, not now...

His eyes, however, had widened and were fixed upon her, with something of the eagerness of the past. He was a grown man now. His very countenance spoke of it. She had not always liked him, trusted him or agreed with him, but she realised she wanted to be a part of his life now. She wanted to make him better. She wanted to bask in his future successes.

"You wander far," he resumed, in quiet tone. "What brings you to these parts?"

"I would have word," she said softly, nerves gaining her body and causing her knees to wobble.

His eyes widened; his interest was piqued. "I welcome the sound."

She could feel her heart starting to race, her hands suddenly hanging limp and clammy before her.

"You have not eaten with us," she chose to say first, delaying her purpose.

His expression was glum. "My absence was not noticed."

"You are mistaken," she whispered.

His eyes and countenance were alert again, waiting. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be that she was finally so close to the truth? Did she want to pursue it, now that he was standing before her? Might she not lose the little she had?

But she could not, _would not_ let opportunity go to waste. Already the short distance that separated them seemed unbearable. He stood before her, a real man, finally found and solid, not a figment of her dreams or a vague memory of her past. He would not slip through her fingers, and yet she felt the throbbing eagerness of reaching out to him before he disappeared forever. In the meantime, he waited, staring intently, perhaps anxiously, at her. Her blurry eyes could not be sure. She felt an inane urge to cry. In her breast, an alien, glorious joy meshed with a terror that only stifling her feelings forever would subdue. She did not want to hear she was mistaken. She did not want to lose what he had become. She no longer wanted to be parted from him. But the possibility sat before her, thicker and more likely with each passing minute of silence.

"You grow pale," he pointed out, furrowing his brow. "What causes such concern?"

He looked perturbed by now, the tightness of his expression denoting expectation of bad news, and the sight heartened her somewhat. It was cheering to know she was not the only one feeling keen anxiety, perhaps mirroring his exact sentiments. If she spoke, she could end his misery equally. The thought gave her strength to proceed.

"You are a hard man to find, even amongst contained numbers," she resumed. "I have been looking for you but have seen the attempt thwarted many times."

Agron's expression caused her heart to twist within chest. "You have been looking for me?"

She nodded slightly, breathless and light-headed, for the first time, with the hungry passion that crossed Agron's otherwise carefully composed face for a minute. Her cheeks flooded with red, but not out of embarrassment or apprehension.

"What is it you seek with me?" Agron enquired, the hope and interest in his voice sounding too unbearably sweet.

She ventured a deep, soundless breath before replying. "The subject is intimate," she ventured, voice trembling. "And sound of the words may not be pleasing to your ears."

"It shall be endured, nevertheless." Agron's tone was firm, but his countenance denoted perplexity, all hope seeming to have given way to wonder as to why she had not yet made her meaning clear.

"We have known each other for many months, now," Deva's voice was still hesitant, but she sought to make it firm. "The bond between us is no longer the same as it was in the beginning." Agron's eyes pierced through hers, his expression so intense and attentive she could barely keep holding his gaze. "The feelings you cherish have been... known to me," she proceeded, with difficulty, finally looking away from him, for she could no longer bear his smouldering stare. "I faced them with distaste, at first, and shunned them. Your proximity frightened me. Such passion was bewildering to me. I was not... and still am not... accustomed to being looked upon with such fondness." Her words were all but a whisper now, and she spoke with her head turned to the left, staunchly staring at the dusty soil.

The silence and tension emanating from him were as hot as fanned flames, a solid presence in their own. She dared not meet his eye. No words issued from his lips. He waited.

"Lately, a change has come over me," Deva proceeded softly, still staring at the patch of dirt at her feet. "Borne from change of circumstance and new closeness between us. I had not thought we would share thoughts or that I would wish to welcome friendship from your end. I took yours to be a character worse than it proved itself to be. Your love flattered me, but I wanted nothing to do with it. Until chance threw us together and led me to closely see and learn more about your nature, about who you could truly be." Her voice faded to a whisper. "I favoured the change, and wished the moments we had spent in each other's company could be repeated. It disoriented mind and dejected heart to not cross paths with you again for many days. I wondered if you had ceased to favour me, or wished to put distance between us. I understood your loss would be too great a thing to withstand, and I wondered if I might be too late. I wished to tell you the changes in my heart, how I regretted my treatment and wished events of the past to lead to happier future. But much time has passed, and harsh conduct may have led feelings to wither within you, beyond renewal. I would not blame you, if it were so." She turned her face to stare at him, squarely, bravely. "But I am no longer the same person you have first laid eyes upon. And I no longer regard you in the manner that I did. I cherish every word you have spoken to me, every look and gesture of support. The soul has caved to such tenderness and risen to new heights. The reason why I have come searching for you... is that your presence has become essential to existence. I do not want to lose what you have become to me. You have opened my eyes... and now, as you have given yours, once, I offer you my heart... in case it is still wanted." Cheeks burning, an unsettled, aching feeling in her throat, Deva looked away again and waited, heart throbbing unsteadily, to the point it made her feel nauseous.

Silence fell over them again, and she dared not attempt to break it this time. She was certain she would receive response that would dash her dreams, but she had to hear it, nevertheless. The wait was unendurable. But she would not be the one to speak. She felt nearly depleted after such intimate exposure of her heart. She had no words left; only Agron needed to give voice to enduring thoughts. She realised now that she had never heard confirmation of his deepest feelings or thoughts regarding her, she had merely felt them. She knew he had not dared come closer because of her inflexible and frightened posture towards him. She had never thought of leading him to speak out, before. To be close to finally hearing him led heart to stutter in both anxiety and excitement within breast.

But the silence remained, thick, breathless, inscrutable. Unable to bear it, she chanced glancing up at Agron. Her heart ceased to beat when, in that brief glance, she saw his eyes inflamed, his countenance angered. She stared back at him, puzzled and distressed, forgetting the will to look away.

Then, abruptly, he closed the distance between them in two strides and took her face in his hands, gazing deeply, with eyes beyond description, into hers. "You foolish girl," he whispered, his voice twisted by incensement and despair. Deva blinked, aghast. "You dishonour yourself and my heart with such thoughts. Do you not know it is yours from the moment I have first laid eyes on you? Yours beyond any attempt to reclaim it—and I _have_ tried to reclaim it, to no avail. Do not speak such words again—do not dare doubt how far I would go for your sake." Wide-eyed, her blood rushing and pounding on her temples, she stared back at Agron, unable to move, relishing their abrupt contact, even if the latter was so delectable, almost to the point of pain, that she could hardly face him, feeling the earnest, fervent glare of his eyes more blinding than that of the sun.

She could find no adequate reply within her. Her tongue had become leaden, a thing of no use. Agron's touch burned her skin; his hands held a tight grip on her, as though unwilling to let her go. He continued to stare at her, insistent, wounded.

"I did not know," she stammered at length. "I have not laid eyes upon you for many a day... I believed you had grown weary of placing expectation upon me."

"Then perhaps more compelling proof is needed to convince you of constant heart," he retorted, and, without warning, his mouth crashed against hers. Shock led her to remaining stiff for a heartbeat, but the persuasion was too anticipated and desired to be rejected. She reciprocated the hungry kiss, struggling to keep up, years of inaction and loneliness causing her to be slow, but not any less enthusiastic. Agron's hand moved from the back of her neck to tangle through her hair, and his grip on her was tighter, as though afraid to lose her. She knew she was pulling at his hair none too gently as the kiss grew, beyond necessity for breath, beyond all desire to part, her own hands roaming over a body she had always taken care not to touch or stand too close to, delighting at the combination of smoothness and firmness her fingers found as they caressed over every bare inch of muscle.

The ravenous kiss left her slightly dizzy, feverish warmth raking her from head to toe. She was grateful to have Agron to lean against, for she felt as though she might collapse at any moment. When he finally pulled away, Agron stared at her worriedly, gauging her reaction. She was touched by the look in his eyes, boyish and well-meaning as it always seemed to be around her, and the earnest warmth in them did not perturb her, as it once had, but rather cheered her.

"You love me, then?" Agron whispered, caressing her face. "You do not speak such words merely out of kindness? You do not seek to torture?"

It was her turn to be offended. "A man's heart is no plaything to me."

He took a deep breath – as though he had been without breathing for very long – and rested his forehead against hers. "I know. I had to be certain. It is a notion too difficult to grasp—a dream, still." He stared straight through her eyes with the old, familiar intensity that made her blush.

"It is no dream. My heart is yours—finally yours, now that I know the man you are, the man you can be. Now that I have trusted your breast to cherish and keep my secrets as though they were your own to safeguard." Hesitantly, softly, she brushed his lips with hers, and she could feel an unfamiliar swelling of joy within her as Agron closed his eyes and basked in the gentle caress.

"And they will be safe – and cherished – until the day the fucking gods tear me from your side." Agron paused and stared at her once more, his right hand still lovingly cupping her cheek. "Deva..." He breathed her name with reverence, and a feeling she was unable to name echoed through her like a shiver. As though she had never heard her name before, as though he had never spoken it, and all the letters only now fell into place. "I have longed for this moment often, even knowing it could never become anything but reverie. I have a mind to keep you in my arms until I can convince awed heart that no deception of the gods conjured you." His face broke into a mischievous grin, carving deep dimples on his cheeks. The sight made her heart flutter.

Without thought, Deva kissed him, much in the same manner he had kissed her before, rejoicing in the groan of pleasure that escaped Agron's throat as he surrendered to the assault. Warmth pooled in her belly as he licked her lips to part them wider and searched for her tongue, sucking teasingly when he found it. She whimpered against his mouth, as much out of pleasure as of surprise. She only managed to pull away with great strength of will, having to tear herself from Agron's grasp.

"Perhaps this suffices to convince you that no trickery could be employed to summon me to your side." Agron grinned widely and she responded likewise. Then, his countenance sobered. "You have not seen me of late," he began, "for I found it hard to be in your presence. I attempted to forget you, and forced unyielding heart to comply with harsh command. It would not obey me, so I removed myself from sight, believing it would be easier thus. I was mistaken." He kissed her mouth softly. "The attempt will be wasted for as long as I live."

"It soothes heart to be thus reassured," she whispered against his lips. "And to see its fears ended."

"I would see them rooted out beyond return," he whispered passionately, tightening his hold on her once more.

She smiled, basking in the warmth his skin radiated, relishing the substantiality of his body against hers, of his arms around her. He had feared she was not real—until now, she too feared the same about him. His flesh clinging to hers was as warm a comfort as hers to him.

All words exhausted, as was the necessity for them, they remained standing, with their arms around each other, foreheads delicately touching, Agron's usual cantankerousness and fire subsiding to calm tenderness, all of Deva's doubts and fears erased. The silence in her soul was an unfamiliar, blissful sound, a sensation as palpable as that of rain upon her skin, as Agron's hands resting on her waist.

"Must this moment ever end?" she asked softly, at length.

Agron's nose brushed hers in a gentle caress. "While the night blankets the world and stupors consciousness, we can see it prolonged in warmer quarters."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had never lain with a man for love; carnal relations had never brought her any pleasure. She was barely skilled or knowledgeable when it came to pleasing a man – nor had she ever showed any relish for such –, and to submit to such under loving hands was entirely foreign to her. But Agron was kind, and he loved her. And she would be lying if she claimed he did not please her. The notion of his body burrowing into hers, of his hands upon her skin, was as burning as it was heart-warming. She would not deny herself to him.

Her delay in answering, however, caused Agron to pull back slightly, concerned and unsure eyes searching hers. "You do not welcome the thought."

She shook her head at once. "It is not that. The notion turns into yearning with each passing moment. But I have done such things before, with the wrong sort of men, and to this day I loathe the very memory."

He looked at her intently, assessing her. "I have seen your fear and distaste near Roman men, when we shared Batiatus' roof. I feared they had placed hands upon you, but did not linger on the suspicion. To entertain it would be seeing them all dead before appointed time." His hand brushed Deva's arm gently. "You had to lie with them? Batiatus commanded it?"

She nodded. "Yes, with some."

Agron's jaw tightened, his teeth clenched, in unsettling promise of danger. "Did the cunts hurt you?"

Deva's gaze clouded sadly as she met Agron's eye. "No more than is customary in such affairs, I suppose."

His gaze was firm and pleading as it poured into hers. "I will see that no harm comes to you – I promise. And if you wish me to stop, you have only to command it."

Deva nodded, slowly, and smiled at him at length. "Then only heavy feet will see me from your arms and from your bed," she whispered to him, smiling to herself at the playful, promising note in her tone, knowing it would arouse Agron beyond all reason.

He pulled back abruptly, giving her a look that would have made a more wanton woman blush, and grabbed her by the arm as he rushed back to camp. She giggled, all laughter checked whenever Agron turned round and barrelled into her to steal kisses from her. They hushed completely once they reached the inside of the temple, tiptoeing like sneaking children in a struggle not to rouse anyone. A dark head stirred and rose slightly from sleeping position; Nasir stared up at them, bleary eyes clearing at once and twinkling in mischievousness. Deva bumped into Agron as he noticed Nasir and came to a halt before her. She blushed to the roots of her hair at the look on the young Syrian's face, one that displays guessing of one's intent. Agron and Nasir exchanged a smile, and Agron winked at him before turning to kiss her and resuming pulling her along. Still blushing, she allowed herself to be towed after Agron, hearing only Nasir's soft laughter until silence, once more, enveloped all.

Her heart throbbed in barely restrained lust as they entered Agron's quarters, snug and dark, the gloom pierced by silvery slivers of moonlight. He turned to face her and swallowed noticeably, a boy found in situation too overpowering for him, or overwhelmed by obtaining of his heart's greatest desire. The desire in his eyes, the stiffness of his flesh, robbed her of breath.

"Now I know what strikes the great Agron mute," she teased softly, attempting to lighten the almost excruciating intensity of the moment. "It is not the Romans, nor blood, nor threat of his own demise that cause him to tense so. He fears nothing, but I have discovered the softest of weaknesses concealed within his heart."

He swallowed and took a step closer to her; Deva's heart skipped a beat. His countenance made all words die on her tongue. Slowly, he reached out to her and, as he put an end to the distance between them, stroked her cheek, his fingers disappearing into her hair. Deva tilted her head up, reacting to the pleasurable caress, and his mouth found hers, melting with hers into a kiss that lacked the frenzied eagerness of before, but which was deep, and sensual, and loving.

Softly, his fingers brushed her shoulders, toying near the clasp of her dress. "Put an end to loving touch now," Agron whispered, his voice echoing softly in the empty, dark room. "Do it now, if trust fails."

She shook her head and smiled. "I do not wish it for the world."

Agron exhaled tremulously, the little black orbs in his eyes swallowing almost all the green in them. He unclasped her dress; it pooled in a gossamer billow of blue at her feet. Her nakedness in the warm night exhilarated her; she felt no hint of embarrassment. She stared at Agron as his gaze took in her curves, drinking from the most intimate places in her body, as warm and desirous as a physical caress. Slowly, still without looking away from her bare form, he undressed, removing armour and weapons and then untying the cloth around his hips. Deva's heart raced fast and hard, and her body tingled in anticipation of unknown delights. Agron was staring at her closely as the very last garment that stood between him and full nudity dropped onto the ground. His erection sprung, thick and large, from a bed of dark hair, and Deva stared at the appendage with both wonder and morbid curiosity, analysing it fixedly. It was the first time the sight of a man's cock did not fill her with dread or disgust; she wondered, as before, whether such imperious, violent-looking member would fit inside her absent pain. But this time, excitement edged the thought. She knew Agron would not hurt her, or would do his best not to. She wanted to know how it felt like to have him inside her; to obtain pleasure from such contact. When she looked up, Agron's eyes were dark, desire-filled and slightly desperate.

"Your mind is still not changed?" he asked her, in a voice she did not recognise. Biting her lip absent notice of it, Deva shook her head.

He approached her and touched her cheek tenderly, reverently, the heel of his palm curling around her jaw, his fingertips brushing with the lightest touch her downy skin.

"Have no fear," he whispered. "And let us, with discovery of new pleasure, banish all venomous memory."

She looked at him and smiled. "Then let us not delay such purpose," she whispered, brushing her cheek slowly against this neck. "For I long to know the feeling."

Agron's hands flattened gently against her belly, slid upwards towards her breasts and caressed her back. He lowered her slowly into the scanty number of animal skins and blankets that made up his bed, and Deva wondered if his hands, still upon her skin, could feel the erratic rhythm of her pounding heart.

His lips found hers again, his stubble pleasantly prickling her skin and rubbing her lips raw. Her eagerness grew with each second; she could tell it was becoming difficult for Agron to maintain his selflessly chivalrous position as she deepened their kiss, threaded her fingers through his hair, and rubbed her hips against his in search of greater contact. He moaned as his hard cock brushed her cunt and broke the kiss, breathing raggedly.

"You move with strong purpose," he breathed. "I may begin to fear ill-usage from you."

Deva giggled nervously, slightly embarrassed by her enthusiasm, and made for pulling away, solicitous of his suffering. Agron gave her a wicked grin. "I did not say I disliked it."

She blushed, but had no time to dwell on it, for his lips claimed hers again. She whimpered as he kissed down her neck, sucking slightly on the skin as he went, his hands wandering in soft caresses across her breasts and down her thighs. Liquid heat began to pool between her legs, an unknown and pressing desire to see torture ended and feel him inside her, filling her, fulfilling what presently was mere promise. The sensation fascinated her; it was entirely alien.

Deva arched towards him as Agron's mouth reached her breasts, his tongue lapping at her nipples until they were hard pebbles, nibbling softly until she was wiggling and gasping. She wrapped her legs around him abruptly, facing him with purpose, the business of breathing disturbed by his voracious ministrations; Agron faced her in similar condition, leaning over her; slowly, he brought his hips closer to hers and nudged her thighs apart slightly. Deva waited on baited breath, half enthusiastic and half fearful, wishing for what came next. Experimentally, he slid inside her, not fully, and waited to gauge her reaction to the gentle invasion. Deva moaned and clung to him with arms and legs, her nails biting onto his shoulders. The movement caused him to slide deeper inside her, and both whimpered quietly, restraint beginning to wear thin.

Agron pulled out and thrust slowly inside her again; the sensation was exquisite, with no hint of strangeness or unpleasantness. He moaned, veins straining on his neck, and Deva licked them, slow and teasing, causing him to groan and tighten his hold on her. She squeaked a little when he thrust harder into her and held onto him, her body so intertwined with his it was impossible that the simplest of movements would not affect the other.

"Please," the word slid from her lips before she could think or notice it.

Agron took a deep breath and began to move slowly, steadily, hips rocking against hers, cock rotating against the most delicious places within her body, and which she lacked knowledge that she possessed. Breathless moans and sighs passed their lips, puncturing the night's warm silence. She was approaching something she could not quite define, the cresting of the pleasure she had only been getting a taste of so far. It was a sensation that bordered on agony, an excruciating wait for something that would prove to consume her when it dawned on her. She could wait no longer—could bear no longer; Agron was tense inside her, writhing in her arms, as close to the peak of release as she was.

After another string of unbearable seconds, their bodies slapping together with little thought for comfort or gentleness, now, the sudden ripple of pleasure that tore through her led her to cry out in both delight and surprise. She dimly heard Agron groan loudly, his seed spilling in hot spurts deep inside her, and bury his head on her breasts, spent. The wondrous sensation subsided much too quickly. She had no time to get used to it, only to marvel and wonder why, now that she joined the ranks of those who had experienced it, it could not last longer. She was overwhelmed by the urge to repeat it, but decided to delay voicing her desires for the time being.

A moment later, Agron rolled off of her and sprawled on the blankets with a deep, satisfied sigh. Deva giggled silently, glancing over at him in amusement. He wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer so that her head rested on his chest.

"Jupiter himself has not had such a night," Agron proclaimed happily.

Deva laughed. "You place undue confidence on recent experience."

Agron kissed her shoulder. "This _was_ truly a night to rival the gods. And we shall make them weep with envy in the many nights to come."

Deva smiled and nestled closer to him, comforted by his warmth and the steady beating of his heart. Her soul was content. Had she known it could be like this, that she would come to feel so easy in her mind when she was near him, she might not have been so inflexible with Agron in the past.

But, as elation began to wear off, her previous plans returned to memory. She had not shared them with Agron yet, nor had she had the time to think of it, once she had found him. She feared his reaction. She wanted to stay with him, to never be parted from his side again, but she also desired freedom. She was not truly her own woman yet. She was still shackled to the threat of Rome and to Spartacus' demands. She feared for the future of all the rebels. She mourned having to leave friends behind, but she did not wish to die. Not now. She would confide her thoughts to Agron, but how his response would shape her decision was still unknown. She knew him well enough by now to not expect joyous reply.

"Would that I could see many more nights, in your arms or from them," she murmured against his chest. She felt Agron tense.

"What is your meaning?"

"We live poised between life and death, never knowing when the latter is coming. It is a dangerous game we're playing. A fantasy. Whatever it is that we're fighting for – that Spartacus is fighting for – it will not have the desired outcome."

Agron was silent, deep in thought and, she believed it wholeheartedly, disagreeing with her viewpoint.

"Have you shared thoughts with Spartacus?" he asked with a note of hardness in his voice. She could not quite pinpoint what it was due to. Was it anger towards her? Jealousy, perhaps? Spartacus and her had enjoyed some closeness, beginning with their shared past in the house of Batiatus, and could speak plainly with each other. Did Agron still see their relations in different light, and feel threatened by them?

"I have hinted at my beliefs, but no words have been fully exchanged yet," she explained, in a low voice.

"Then what do you have in mind?"

"It has dwelled within it long before I made my feelings towards you known," Deva began. "And it is currently subject that divides heart."

Agron's eyes, glowing vivid green in the darkness, showed a measure of uneasiness. Fear. Yet, he did not interrupt her.

"Freedom has been what has been missed the most during my years of captivity. Knowledge, to this day almost forgotten, that I could go whenever I pleased, do whatever I chose, and would not find death or blame because of it. My soul longs for it fervently; it will never feel complete absent retrieval of such a gift. I will never feel whole without it. And I still do not feel truly free. Only a fool, sharing my position, would believe so. And I do not wish to die," she raised her eyes to meet Agron's earnestly. "I fear loss of life. I fear oblivion before I have truly lived again. I have pondered abandoning the cause and Rome, and finding myself new home. I would warn Spartacus beforehand, and I am certain he would not prevent me from leaving – even if he attempted to, at first. But leaving you caused me pain. I still feel anguish whenever I face the thought. But it has not left my mind, and nor will it, even after knowing the warmth of your arms. It is not my wish that you die either, leaving me to mourn loss of love still so fresh. You are a free man and you deserve better. As you deserve to know my feelings, even if contrary to your purpose and offending to the ear."

There was a long moment of silence, where only the sound of their breathing was perceptible. Deva began to fear Agron's response, but did not attempt to speak. She knew he would do so, sooner or later.

"You would think of leaving?" he asked quietly, a note of torment twisting around his voice. "Indifferent to my heart?"

"Not indifferent to it," Deva assured him softly. "But the desire lurks within even whilst I hold it within grasp."

"Is it impossible for you to find happiness here?" However, it was barely a question, but a statement of mind already formed.

"I would find it here, if menace of persecution and death did not stalk my every step," she whispered.

Silence fell over them once more. She could sense Agron thinking, and held her peace, the warmth of his body becoming more precious with each second, something she was more and more loathe to lose.

"I would not see you sorrowful for the world," he murmured. "Nor would I ever be responsible for such. Your happiness means more to me than my own."

She lifted her head slightly, feeling both hope and dread. "Agron..."

"I believe in what Spartacus fights for," he went on. "_I_ fight for it. I will see my brother avenged, as I believed you would see yours. Your heart seemed to share the same purpose as the rest of them. Perhaps I fooled myself, seeing only brighter side of dark reflection. But I will not see you taken from me by one of those fucking Roman cunts, and nor will I lose you and life's breath to the end of their sword." He paused. "I have sometimes dreamed of returning to my homeland. To return to my life of old, with Duro beside me, as though nothing had ever changed."

Breathless with expectation, but not wishing to persuade him to anything – it had never been her intent – Deva waited.

"Where would you go? Would you return to your people?"

"The place of my birth is forever tarnished by Roman presence. I cannot go back, and I do not wish it. I would go wherever will and lightness of feet will take me," she replied quietly.

"And if you found no place to settle?" she began to discern the first hints of humour in his voice.

"I would relish the freedom," she responded promptly.

"I would give this up," Agron whispered, "for you, if you wished me to."

"I have no wish to tear you from a cause you believe in and a life you wish to live."

"Absent strength of knowing you exist, and wait every day to see my return, even if absent loving feelings towards me, such a life would suddenly weigh heavy on my breast."

"A suffering shared, but endured if we each wanted to pursue diverse paths," Deva whispered tenderly, caressing his hair.

"I will not be without you. Not now that I have you—not if the fucking Romans and the gods combined forced me towards such an end."

"Have you found your answer, then?" Deva asked, smiling at him.

"If you want to leave, we shall leave together. We will go to the lands east of the Rhine, if that is your wish, or anywhere else you command. The location does not concern. Being far from Rome with you by my side is all the heart craves."

"A craving mirrored by mine," she whispered, all but trembling with joy. "I am happy to welcome your land as mine. Or to comb this earth in search of a home for both of us. And if you truly wish to leave, then I would that we go as soon as we are able – as soon as the sun breaks, if you see fit."

"And afterwards," Agron asked, feigning ponderous tone, "after we are settled, after we are far from the Romans' grasp, what shall we do with such idle lives?"

Deva hid a smile on his warm skin. "Anything our hearts desire. Anything the soul or caprice dictates."

"What was it you wished, before enslavement?"

She blushed, but smiled fondly at the memory that slowly regained its old strength and vividness. "I wanted a farm of my own. I wanted to grow vegetables and breed pigs. I wanted children."

"Perhaps," Agron whispered in her ear, placing a hand on her belly, "that desire shall take root sooner than we think." He turned his head to kiss her, and she smiled into the kiss, digging her fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck.

"I would wish for nothing more."

"Then it is settled?" he asked, once they broke apart. "We shall leave Rome together? Today?"

Deva nodded, smiling ecstatically at him. "Yes." She crawled on top of him, showering his face and chest with kisses. "Gratitude. Gratitude for this."

"If I did not agree to it, you might leave without me," Agron teased. He sobered and raised a hand to her cheek, gazing at her with earnest eyes. "You should know by now, my love, there isn't anywhere you go I would not follow."

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**Please, do review if you liked it and tell me what you think! Is there any point in continuing this? It would mean a lot!  
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